No Accidents

Leaving the Trader Joe’s parking lot this evening I fell in behind a van with Doula as the license plate. We both needed to make a left turn but I needed certification information more so I pulled to the right, wound down my window, and began signalling for their attention with my left hand. A young man sat behind the wheel and a younger woman sat in the passenger seat. The sexist-ageist in me won out and neither of you looks like a doula was the first thing out of my mouth. The driver said his wife was the doula and gave me her number. I saved it in my cell phone just before the light turned. Before entering the dollar store I decided to give her a call. She invited me to come hang out with them tomorrow. If I get to the gym early enough, I just might do that. A doula with a doctorate running a community center / juice bar for the living arts could happen. I mean not much could be stranger than God in a manger, right?


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